Turn the Last Light Out
by CrystalBVB
Summary: Pitch discovers a girl who can see him, but does not fear him, and discovers there are some nightmares that not even he can bear to unleash on an innocent child... bumped up to T for child abuse
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, so I went to see ROTG twice in 2 days and I knew I just had to do a fanfic for it. But my problem was I had no idea for a storyline until I saw a picture on Deviantart, and read through my old journals I kept as a child. This is based on a time I had a nightmare... and it seemed someone was there...**

**Pitch discovers a girl who can see him, but does not fear him, and discovers there are some nightmares that not even he can bear to unleash on an innocent child...**

**Turn the Last Light Out**

Another day... another night... another year goes by. But yet, since the dark ages, no child or adult or even animal can see him. The existence of the Boogieman was nothing but a hang over of an age long forgotten, blocked out by the light. But it was also, a misunderstood one... They should be thankful to him, and he wasn't just saying that in vanity or ignorance of his past. It was the truth. Nothing but the pure truth. For the truth was, without fear, there could be no hope... without darkness, there could be no light... without nightmares, there could be no dreams... without dullness, there could be no wonder... without misery, there could be no fun. The Guardians claimed he was evil... a monster to be rid of at every chance. But they don't realize what he did for them. Every time he instilled such intense fear, the hope, light, dreams, wonder and fun would come back stronger than ever... and he would almost die from exhaustion, weakness and loneliness. All to make them stronger.

As for what he did for children? He showed them what they feared most in their dreams, so maybe they could learn how to deal with it, protect themselves from the dangers of the world they were so haphazardly placed in, and wouldn't need to meet with the real danger of facing such fears in the real world beyond their safe bedrooms. He remembered times when children had died because he had failed to make them feel enough fear in time. Children need to learn how to face life, as life itself is something everyone should fear. So many dangers lurking in every corner of every street of every city in ever country all over the world. They had to learn the hard way... but better through fear and nightmares, than through death or harm to come from contact with such dangers...

Pitch found himself pondering this himself, wondering why on earth the Guardians couldn't accept or even notice that he is the reason for his existence... when he sensed a nightmare nearby.

He looked around. The street was dark, only dimly lit by one single streetlamp. He was in Newcastle, a smallish city just before the space where the boarders of Scotland and England meet. The town was full of both extremely friendly and caring people, and the scum of the planet. Though one could say the same about wherever one was born. Pitch had always thought the same of London, where he was born, only down there they were less friendly than those from this city. Even the scumbags of this city had some charm to them. This particular street had been even danker and dirtier than London had been in the time of his life... boys in gangs sat on the treet corner with knives in their pockets and bottles of cheap alcohol in hand. Spilt oil smeared over the road and up the walls of certain homes and graffiti stained the wall to what was once a park. In the darkness he could easily see the rusting heap that once was a climbing frame. A see-saw smashed to pieces. A set of swings slowly disintegrating into a pile of rust. The rest of the park's amusements were so batterd and smashed that they only resembled scattered rubble. Oil drums and litter were dumped, strewn over the park and street beyond. The feel of the street was almost post-apocalyptic. A feeling that for once Pitch seemed to almost dislike.

He walked down the street. The place held strong ghost, memories of past nightmares held by the children who once lived on this street... but spirits broken, they are children no more. Except for one...

**This was meant to be a oneshot story but its late, I'm tired and too egre to put this stroy up. The next chapter will most likely be the last but I already have an idea in mind for a sequel, so if you R&R, my sequel you will get. Sorry to cut it short. Will update soon! Goodnight everyone!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, I'm a little disappointed that out of over 200 people who have read this, only 2 reviewed. But I must be doing something right to get so many people reading my story, and no one burning me at the stake yet so its both bad and good. I've had to bump this story up to a T because of mentions of child abuse. Please do not send me troll reviews for the themes mentioned. This subject is close to me and touchy, and this is my way of getting my feelings out about it. If your not happy and cant give me constructive criticism, I suggest you don't bother reading this and leave now. Those of you who carry on reading, here is the next chapter! Enjoy!**

Pitch found the house he was looking for, the scent, the feel, the ring in the air. The unmistakeable essence of a child's nightmare was heavy here, like a sickly sweet, overpowering air freshener, used more to knock you out than remove the stench surrounding you. Such a powerful nightmare was enough to make even _his_ stomach turn.

He disappeared from the dank, damp, desolate street, and into the small room. It was very dark, and cold enough to send a shiver up his spine. He could see the walls had been painted a blue so off it edged on being grey, and the only furnishings were a chest of draws, topped with a broken TV, and a bunk bed. Two boys lay in the beds. The one on the bottom bunk had dark olive skin, thick eyebrows, and an afro of light brown, tight curls. He was naturally very skinny, face gaunt, almost like the nightmare spirit himself. The boy in the top bunk seemed of Asian descent, with smooth dark skin, and short, pitch black hair. This boy looked a little shorter and chubbier than the other. Both were sound asleep, dream sand dancing around their heads with its golden glitters, tucked up warmly in their electric blankets. But Pitch was not interested in them. For on the floor was the child he searched for.

The girl couldn't be older than six years old, strewn on the rough, scratchy carpet floor with only a small, flat pillow to keep her comfort, trembling with cold and nightmares. She was a bit tall for her age, with a much paler version of the olive skin belonging to the boy in the bunk bed. Her eyebrows were thin but flicked upwards at the ends like the eyebrows of a pixie. Her dark chocolate brown hair flowed in a chocolate river down to her backside and was cut into a neat little style with a straight fringe. 'She is going to break some hearts when she grows up.' Pitch thought to himself as she watched the girl, before shaking himself and peering into her dream.

_Blood... everywhere... blood... pain... the screams of her friends... that's all she saw in her dreams. She felt the pain and knew... she knew it wasn't just in her dreams. Her friends crying, running from a monster she knows is all too real... what she fears is not what others fear... Pitch used the dream to see further into her fears... only to instead find memories. Memories of the monster she has to see ever weekend, with blood on his hands no one else can see. And an angel unaware of the child's cries at night. The fist belonging to someone she once loved. Pain, starvation, illness and exhaustion caused by the one who once claimed to love her back... She can't fight, can't speak, can't run away. Trapped in a never ending nightmare where the monsters are real... her own father is the monster who can't let her go._

He gasped as he stepped out of her memories, out of her nightmare, and stared at her. Though he saw her memories, he couldn't exactly work out everything that happened. It made no sense. Though a child's mind rarely would to an adult. He felt fear course through him, and for once, it wasn't the fear of a scared child but his own. He was beginning to feel emotion... feel almost sorry... and it terrified him. He turned to leave, to disappear into the night and never come back... when he heard a soft whimper. He turned around to see the girl had woken up, and was staring at him.

"... Who... are you?..." She whispered nervously, her huge, shimmering cola-black eyes staring at him in a mix of fear and hope.

"I am the Boogieman." He stated, his whisper equal to his own. Then something clicked. The penny had JUST dropped... she could see him! He froze in disbelief. "You... you can see me?... And... hear me?..."

The girl nodded, hugging her pillow. "Boogieman doesn't scare me... Boogieman cant hurt me like daddy does... You no bad guy like daddies friends..."

Pitch almost winced at her words. How could he, the fearsome Boogieman, be a comfort blanket compared to a father? His mind turned to her dreams. He wasn't sure why, but he just had to know more. His original intentions of toying with her nightmares were beginning to be forgotten. "Others know me by the name of Pitch... do you have a name?"

"... Kriss..." She mumbled softly, watching him as he sat cross-legged in-front of her on the floor.

"What's so wrong about your daddy?" He asked softly, jumping a little as she wrapped her arms around one of his, tears in his eyes.

"Daddy hurt me... I want to tell mummy but... he said he'll kill me if I do..." She whispered, trying not to cry out loud and wake everyone up. "He makes me do things... lets his friends touch me. They hurt me... Say if I don't let them they'll hurt me friends. They tried once and almost did. Please Mr Pitch, don't let them hurt me again..."

Pitch, for the first time in his life, was left speechless... it all made sense now... he didn't need any more explanation to realize what was really going on. And what was worse... he knew there was little he could do. He shifted so Kriss was lying on his lap as he held her tight and close, gently brushing a hand from her hair. He had come here with the intention of hurting her. Scarring her mind by wakening her up to see her very own livening nightmare before her, bringing what she feared most to life... but now he was a broken man. She was already livening a nightmare. Lost in a world where not one of her screams, silent or otherwise, were being heard.

"Does your mother know of any of this?.." He asked her softly once her tears had ceased to soak his coat.

"Mummy doesn't know anything... She thinks daddy gone good now." She paused a moment. "I... I don't wanna have nightmares anymore..."

Pitch thought for a moment, his golden-silver eyes fixed on the terrified Kriss. His job, as he was pondering earlier, was supposed to be to teach children through nightmares. To help them understand how to protect themselves, and that fear should be headed, but shouldn't take over your life. It was then he shocked himself. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Don't be afraid... I'm going to help you... I cannot take away your nightmares or your fear... but since you can see me, I can help you. I promise, I will teach you to fight those nightmares. Your not alone anymore..." He vowed, more to himself than to her.

"Nether are you..." She whispered, , beginning to drift off.

"I'll be back tomorrow night... the second you turn the last light out..."

And with that, Kriss fell fast asleep... Pitch would keep his promise to the young girl. After a year, her father would leave the country. Pitch would become her father figure and come to love Kriss as his daughter... only to have her taken from her... but that, is another story.

**Sorry, this came out SO much worse than I thought it was going to :/ I may re-write this completely, but for now it will have to do. I might also do a third chapter to explain a few things, as I have definite plans for a sequel. Tell me what you think in your review, and please tell me how I could possibly improve this for my re-write? HELPFUL criticism is welcome, snide and just plain mean comments will result in a blocking. I have no time for trollers or haters. Those of you who liked it, thanks but still give me some ways I can improve? I'm not happy with this :/**

**See you soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone. This is just an authors note ^^**

**I went to see ROTG for a third time, and its helped me gain more inspiration for the next chapter of this story and its sequel. But unfortunately due to ill health I've been very busy and unable to write. I cant say when I will update, but hopefully it will be soon. I have my sights set on starting the sequel before Christmas. Also I plan to create a one-shot series of cute stories about Pitch and Kriss spending time together when she is away from her dad. I will be takeing requests, so if you have any ideas you want me to put in, tell me ^^.**

**I also want to say a HUGE thankyou to everyone who reviewed, you've all been lovely and I feel great that you love my story so much. If any of you have Deviantart, you can follow me, SakuraTrix. I'm hopeing to soon do a gender-bender Cosplay of Jack, with one of my friends as Pitch Black. I also hope to find someone in Newcastle interested in cosplaying as Jack, as I am going to cosplay as Kriss. If you are in Newcastle, England and like cosplaying, message me.**

**Thanks again for all the love you've given me, and I hope you enjoy the continueation of my story. See you all later! ^^**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, well, I was disappointed in my last chapter, but it seems like I was the only one. I've had LOADS of lovely reviews from everyone. Here is the final chapter, and the sequel will be on its way! Anyway, heres the final chapter/starter for the sequel, enjoy!**

Almost a year had passed since Kriss first met Pitch. As promised, Pitch returned every night and thought her to fight her nightmares. No matter where she was, he would find her. He soon learned that weekends she was with her bastard of a father. During the week, she was with her mother, and though she was safe, he still came to watch over her. During the week, the time they spent together awake was so much more fun. He thought her to dance and sing. He told her stories beside the fire place, about the Guardians and their constant thwarting of his plans. Though the knowledge that, in a way, he was the bad guy upset her, she also knew that without him the others would not exist. It's pretty much the yin-yang effect. You can't have one and not the other. She took this knowledge with much understanding. One thing could be said for her; she was wise beyond her years.

One night, Pitch found himself standing in front of Kriss's mother's house. 'Strange...' Pitch thought. 'Why would Kriss be here? It's a Saturday...' Pitch was slightly concerned. It wasn't that he minded his precious charge being away from that sadistic monster. But more that the only time she has been here on a weekend is when she's very ill.

He disappeared from the street, which was a dam sight better than that of her fathers, and into Kriss's bedroom. The room looked as if twins of the opposites lived in it. One half was black and covered in skulls and rock band posters. Punk/Rock Chick style clothes were strewn everywhere. The other half was all pink love hearts and fluffy things, glittery makeup and jewellery lined up neatly on a vanity dressing table. Needless to say, Kriss's style had a touch of multiple personality. One day she'd be in a pretty pink silk dress, with pink fluffy boarders at the end of the skirt. The next day she won't be able to stand the sight of pink, and opts for torn jeans, a band shirt 4 sizes too large and a fake leather jacket. Needless to say, her taste in clothes had MPD.

The seven year old girl was lying on her bed, which had a double sided bed sheet. The pink side was down, facing up black covered in skulls. She was dressed in a short, punky tartan skirt and black leggings, and a black skull shirt, tossing a Barbie doll to one side, boredly. Then she saw Pitch, leaning on the wall in the dark corner of her room. "Pitch!" She bolted off her bed and tackled him to the ground in an almighty hug, grinning from ear to ear.

"Nice to see you too, Nix Regina." He smirked. Kriss never knew the meaning behind her nickname. Whenever she asked, all she knew was, Man in Moon had chosen it for her. "What are you doing here today?" He asked softly, sitting her on his lap. It was more than obvious she was not ill.

"Daddy's gone!" She replied gleefully. "Daddy move away to Brazil and got arrested. He won't be back."

Pitch couldn't help but grin broadly at the news, tears of relief and joy forming in his eyes. Long had he tried so desperately to turn fear onto the worthless creature her father had become. Long had he desired to hear the news that he was gone and for good. His Nix was safe, at last...

But his happiness wasn't to last. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years. Time passed, and as Kriss became more and more part of the "real" outside world, the less he saw of her. She gained few friends and grew up fast. And though they still met each night, it still wasn't enough for him. He longed to be alive to her world, to walk among her friends as a human man. He wanted to be with her as a friend, as family. He loved her like he once loved his own daughter... one he had lost long ago... It cut him deeply to see her drifting away more and more as the days dragged on.

One summer night, 6 months after her 12 birthday, he came to Kriss's window to surprise her.. only to gain a shock himself. There, lying on her bed as she tended to a wound on his arm, was Jack Frost himself.

Pitch froze. He felt himself falling... falling apart... all over again... the pieces of his soul, his happiness, that Kriss had helped him slowly put back together, were being broken and withering away once again, as he came to the realization that his joy and hope ended here. He knew if the Guardians ever knew of his contact with Kriss, they would chase him away. He could never see her again. They could never just let him be happy... But she was...

He looked at the scene again. Jack was smiling, making it snow in her room. Kriss had a bright smile on her chubby little face, laughing and chatting to the teenaged winter spirit. What exactly Jack was doing here in the middle of summer, didn't seem to matter to Pitch... she was happy... without him. He needed no more of a reason to leave. After all... she didn't need him anymore, and he certainly didn't need her... right?

And besides. He would always be there, as long as she remembered to turn the last light out...


End file.
